Avengers: Web of Secrets
by RJ-Lennox
Summary: Richard and Mary Parker come to their friend and boss, Tony Stark, one night in need of help. There is something big going on at Stark Industries' sister company, OSCORP, and Tony is the only one who can help them, though not in the way he thinks. Seventeen years later, Peter begins to intern at OSCORP, and secrets about his past and who he is begin to surface.
1. Chapter 1

TONY

It was about thirty minutes past midnight, and Tony Stark was up high in his tower working on a new project; something to do with S.H.E.I.L.D and the fact that their helicarrier used up too much power and needed to be made more efficient and clean. Tony had skipped over the little details, but knew what he had to do and how to do it, and was hoping to get it done sometime before morning. He wanted to take a test run on a new suit he was developing.

_But no, instead of having fun and hurtling myself through the air, I'm sitting in here building engines, _he thought sarcastically.

Tony took a swig of rum and Coke and sighed. Ever since he and the Avengers defeated Loki six months ago, there had been absolutely nothing of substance to keep his mind on other than the usual comings and goings of Stark Industries. Though he had altered Stark Tower to be the headquarters of the Avengers, there hadn't been a major threat since Thor took Loki back to Asgard. And since there was no threat, everyone was off pretty much doing their own thing.

Bruce was working with S.H.E.I.L.D on a top secret gamma radiation project (though Tony knew everything about the project from who was working on it to the type of shoes they wore.)

Thor was back with his girlfriend What's-Her-Face and occasionally checking up on minor problems around the world, doing his "protector of Midgard" gig.

Clint and Tasha were working on the red in Tasha's ledger. How, Tony had no idea. Tasha was able to keep herself off of Tony's radar if she wanted, something that annoyed Tony to no end.

Even Pepper was gone, at this point. She was taking a small vacation with her parents in Florida, and would be back "as soon as I manage to stop them worrying about me because I'm dating a metal freak."

Her words, not theirs, apparently.

The only person who had stuck around was Steve, who was still trying to adjust to being seventy years in the past. Tony had originally been against the idea of being roommates with the Captain, but Steve eventually began to grow on Tony, and they had become great friends. Steve even started becoming interested in some of the new gadgets that Tony had been coming up with, and with Tony's help had become fairly savvy technology wise, despite the huge time gap between what Steve had previously thought was "high tech" and what was _actually_ high tech.

_I wonder if Cap would like a drink, _he wondered to himself as he thought about his star spangled friend.

Steve didn't usually drink all that much with Tony, mostly because Steve could no longer get drunk due to the effects of his condition, and partly because it's not very fun to be the sober fellow around a drunken Tony Stark.

Tony was going to see anyway.

He got up from his chair and away from the table where he was working on design plans for the new helicarrier engines, and said "I'm heading upstairs, JARVIS, let's go."

"Yes, good idea sir."

Tony turned off everything in his workspace, grabbed what remained of his drink, and made his way into the main part of his living area. He stumbled a little, but given the fact that he wasn't piss-your-pants-drunk yet, he managed to make it without nearly killing himself.

"JARVIS," he said, "put Stevie on the speakers for me, will ya? I want to—"

But before Tony could finish his sentence, the alarms that were set to go off when someone was approaching his little bit of the tower sounded.

"Sir, you seem to have a visitor," JARVIS said.

"Really JARVIS, you don't say?" said Tony sarcastically. "I bet it's Steve. Never mind calling him, but I don't see why he didn't put his code in…"

Tony set down his drink and made his way to the door.

"Steve, I gave you a code for a reason, the alarms are—"

As Tony opened the door, he stopped in mid-sentence. Because in front of him was not his friend Steve, but instead Richard and Mary Parker, two people Tony worked with extensively in regards to medical advances at Stark Industries, and who were in liaisons to Stark Industries sister company (and soon-to-be newest addition to Stark Industries,) OSCORP. They had worked their way up at Stark Industries, and had become top employees after Tony's decision to stop making government-grade weapons. Aside from working for him, they were also good friends.

Tony cleared his throat and smiled.

"Richard, Mary, how unexpected yet totally awesome of you to show up. I thought you were Steve, but you'll do just fine too, I suppose." Tony moved aside so that they could come in, and he noticed that Mary was carrying their son, Peter, in her arms. "And the baby too, wonderful. I can put his drink in a sippy-cup, yeah?" he chuckled, though he realized once he closed the door and turned to them that something was terribly wrong and the smile that had been on his face slid off. "Or—or not, that's cool too. I can drink by myself, no big deal."

Richard sighed, pushed his thick glasses up his thin nose and started. "Tony, we've come into some trouble, Mary and I, over at OSCORP. We need your help."

"Ok, no problem," Tony said, slightly taken aback by the urgent tone on Richard's voice. "What do you need? Money, place to stay, car, what?"

"We need to go away and we want you to take care of Peter."

Tony's brow furrowed and the corners of his lips turned down. "Say what?"

Richard sighed and pushed up his glasses again, which had slid down. "Tony, there is something terrible going on at OSCORP, something that has the potential to put the entire world in danger. We would have come to you sooner, but there was so much that Mary and I had to prepare for, so much that we had to plan and calculate… it's just too late for us to involve you any further, but in order to keep this from getting out and in order for us to keep our son safe, we have to leave. I'm sorry. There's no one else with the skills to help us."

"There's things like nannies and adoption, I think, that could handle this a lot better than I can," Tony said bluntly. "I mean, give me a psychotic terrorist or a demi-god bent on world domination and I have your back, but this is a little bit out of the realm of Tony Stark and what he can and can't do. And I'm not usually the one to say that I can't do something."

Richard chuckled. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Tony shook his head. "Unlikely. I estimate myself correctly approximately one hundred percent of the time. In fact, I could probably tell you the exact percentage where I haven't correctly estimated myself and I would still—"

"Tony," Richard said firmly.

"Ok then." Tony raised his hands up in front of him, backing off slightly and getting back to the point. "So what is this threat to the safety of the world going on at OSCORP?" He was trying to avoid discussing the whole baby issue by seeing if he could do something about the "terrible threat" that had somehow made these people think that he of all people was the person needed to take care of their son while they escaped into the darkness.

"Tony, if you knew, you'd know why we couldn't tell you. Suffice to say, I have everything needed to keep this from blowing up into something that will lead to a catastrophe. If I could tell you without compromising you, I would, but I can't. The only thing I can do is ensure that my son is safe, and I know he will be safest in the hands of a super hero, and you happen to be the only one I know."

Tony sighed. "So I can't even know what this big threat is?" he said, disappointed. "At all? And, speaking of this threat, how don't I know about it? I know everything that goes on in my company." That was the bit that Tony found the most incredulous; if there was something going on at his company or at a partner company, he was always the first to know, especially if it was something threatening.

Tony Stark did not like not knowing things.

Richard laughed. "Even Tony Stark can't possible know everything. As far as being allowed to know, the fewer people who know, the better. So far those who know are the people involved, Mary, and myself. As I said, Mary and I took the information needed to launch the project; the others involved cannot move on with the project if they don't have the information they need."

"And how do you know that they won't just redo what you've taken? Or for that matter, figure it out?" Tony asked. He didn't think it'd be hard; he tended to employ and work with the most intelligent minds he could find.

"Because I came up with the formula, so to speak," Richard replied. "I was the one, along with Mary, who came up with the numbers and the formula. The people have the ideas, but Mary and I had the numbers that backed up the ideas; they wouldn't know a photon from a proton, Tony," he said chuckling before getting serious.

"At the time, we didn't know what the plans for our formulas were really for… so we helped," Mary interjected. "We thought it was going to be a great progress in the advancement of medicine and human evolution. But it wasn't. And when we found out the truth, we planned to take everything they'd need to make the plan come to fruition, and to leave with that we had, fall off the gird so to speak."

Richard took a deep breath. "Tony, I know that you like having all the information at once, but you must understand that it is for your safety and the safety of others that we keep the information from you. And under no circumstances are you to interfere at OSCORP in any way that would arose suspicions. I know there are plans to merge the company with Stark Industries, but you must not do anything out of character. Any hint that you know something is amiss and they will make sure to find out all you know." He paused. "When I say that it is better for you to be in the dark, I mean it Tony. If not just for yourself, then for my son. He is the only connection to our family, the only one that has the chance to do something with his life. Mary and I have lost that chance, and if he gets involved with this, he will too. I am begging you, Tony, to keep my son safe, to keep him happy, and though it goes against your nature, I am begging you to let this be, let Mary and I do what we must, and keep our son safe."

Richard and Mary were on the verge of tears at this point. Richard's voice was cracking the whole time and Tony could tell that Mary was struggling to keep a brave face. Tony didn't know how to take the words that Richard said to him. He didn't know how to take Richard telling him he was the only person right to take care of his son, he didn't know how to take not being told all the information, he didn't know how to take not being able to help people he considered his friends stay out of trouble.

"Look, Richard. I don't know if I can do this. This is a kid. This is a _kid_ you're asking me to take care of. And to not get involved! You're asking me to not get involved in something and to take care of a kid and to just let you go off and handle this yourself."

Richard smiled a little.

"Tony, I have the utmost confidence in you. You're a little rough around the edges, but if there's anyone who can protect my son, I know it's you."

"I think I need a drink," said Tony wearily. Then he sighed. "Ok. So if I do this, what about you guys? Where are you going? When are you coming back? What are you doing with this information that for some reason I can't know?" Tony needed to at least know _something._

"We're going to be going someplace where we can't be found, by anyone. As far as when we're coming back, we don't know. We may never be back. Which is why we wouldn't entrust our son to anyone else but you."

Tony had to hold back telling them that he thought they were insane; he wouldn't entrust his own son to himself, let alone someone else's.

But Tony knew that Richard and Mary wouldn't do something so crazy or seemingly random without there being a legitimate point or reason to it. And he knew that if he didn't help them, that they would have no one else to help them.

He groaned.

"I don't know if I can do this."

Richard frowned. "Tony—"

"I said that I didn't know if I could do it, not that I wouldn't," Tony interrupted. "I just need time to think, that's all."

Richard nodded. "I understand. Let's explain everything to you, and then we'll go from there, ok?"

Tony nodded.

From there, Tony listened as Mary explained the cover that she and Richard had come up with to protect Peter and cover their tracks. Peter would keep his name, but Mary and Richard had procured papers that traced his lineage back to distant relatives of Tony's, who, according to a doctored will, had died recently in a car accident, leaving their only son with no family, accept for his "uncle," Tony Stark, who would be given immediate custody of the child and would act as his guardian until Peter's 18th birthday.

All of the Richard's assets that weren't going to be used for their disappearance were turned over Tony to use for Peter; money from Peter's college fund, a portion of his parent's savings account, and money acquired through discretely selling some of the Parker's property had accumulated into a large sum of money. And though they knew Tony didn't technically need the money—Tony was loaded, as pretty much everyone on the planet knew—they wanted to leave something for their son, even if they couldn't be there for him.

The plan for Richard and Mary was then explained. In two days' time, Mary and Richard would make their escape, making it look like a home invasion in which they were all kidnapped. Important documents would be taken from their safe, to make it look like they had been taken for information on something that they had been working on. One week from their disappearance, they would send a message to Stark Industries from their "kidnappers" informing the company that the couple and their son had been killed as punishment for noncooperation, and that the coordinates for their bodies would be sent for retrieval. Obviously Richard and Mary weren't going to actually be killed; they had apparently "settled everything the way it needed to be" in order to pull the entire thing off. This was how they would manage to completely wipe their family off the face of the planet, figuratively speaking.

"That's pretty much everything," Mary finished. She then hesitated, as if there was something she needed to say, but couldn't bring herself to do so. "We—we do have an alternate plan, one that we came up with if you weren't able to do this for us."

"Oh?" Tony asked, interested. If they had had an alternate plan, why didn't they mention it before?

"Mary, I don't think—" Richard began to interrupt, but Mary cut him off.

"I need to make sure he knows the full weight of his choice, Richard," she said firmly. She then turned and looked directly into Tony's eyes.

What she then proceeded to tell him would change Tony Stark's life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

TONY

"Peter, it's almost time to leave!" Tony shouted through his apartment. He heard the water from the bathroom faucet turn off, and a white face with an unruly mop of brown hair popped out of the room.

Peter Parker had a big grin on his face and a red toothbrush hanging from him mouth; suds from his toothpaste ran down his chin and some had made their way onto his shirt, sure to crust up and dry there.

"Goddid ad almo din!" he slurred as he continued to brush, ducking his head back into the bathroom and shutting the door. Tony smiled, shook his head, and went back to adjusting his tie while Peter finished up. Though he no longer took Peter to school, he still tried to make sure that Peter got to school on time, or at the very least left in time.

That was never very often.

Tony finished up making his tie look presentable, and turned to look in a mirror hanging on the wall beside him.

_Damn I look nice. _

He was right; he did look nice. Though he was now fifty two, he was still the same Tony Stark that he was seventeen years ago, give or take a few grey hairs and facial lines. He was still well built, strong looking, and as always was very much attracted to his own reflection.

Though the years had not changed Tony's appearance, they had changed Tony as a man. He was more responsible, drank less, and tried his best to not offend every person that he came in contact with, though he hadn't given up his naturally sarcastic demeanor, and that was one thing about Tony that had really rubbed off on Peter.

Tony always denied it when Pepper pointed it out.

Peter had become, obviously, a huge part of Tony's life after Richard and Mary mysteriously disappeared seventeen years ago. It had taken Tony a while to get used to having a child around. There had been many nights where Steve and Pepper had to nurse an incredibly drunk Tony while also trying to find Peter, who on most nights when Tony binged would crawl around the apartment getting into gadgets and pushing buttons on things he shouldn't. It took Peter getting hurt one night after messing with the Iron Man suits for Tony to realize that if he didn't stop what he was doing (which in all honesty was feeling sorry for himself and thinking of only himself) that his entire purpose, which was to protect Peter, would be a moot point because before long there would be a night where Steve or Pepper weren't around and Peter would get hurt or worse.

From then, Tony worked on his drinking. It wasn't by any means easy; there was a point where he was so unbearable that Steve took Pepper and Peter away, telling Tony that if he didn't care about them enough to quick cold turkey, then he didn't deserve to have them in his life.

It took about two months from there before Pepper and Peter returned to Tony.

At the time, Tony truly resented Steve for being there and just in general existing. He was Tony Stark, after all. He didn't need some prissy soldier icicle telling him what he did and didn't need to be doing, and he sure as hell didn't need him telling him he wasn't worthy of having Peter and Pepper in his life. After all, Tony had let Steve live with him in his home, taught him and helped him adjust to the new time, all of that. It hurt and pissed Tony off that Steve would then go as far as to take away the most important thing to him, and they didn't talk (or rather, Tony ignored and refused to even work with Steve on S.H.E.I.L.D. projects, which was out of character even for Tony Stark, who never threw hissy fits of that caliber) for about a month before Tony came around and realized that had Steve not intervened, Pepper would have left on her own eventually, and she wouldn't have come back. For this, Tony always felt indebted to Steve, and made sure that Steve felt like he was as much a part of Peter's life as he and Pepper were; Tony felt Steve deserved that much.

Now, Tony had a family, one that he had always wanted to have but never thought he'd be able to. Granted, it wasn't particularly conventional: he wasn't married to the woman he loved, and his adopted son basically had three parents, two of which were world famous super heroes. Tony liked it all the same.

He smiled as he thought about this, looked down at his watch, and cleared his throat.

"Come on Peter you're going to be late and weekly calls from your teachers get old after the twentieth time in a month," he called. He then jumped, surprised, as Peter magically appeared beside him.

"What do you mean; I've been ready for the last five minutes. You're the one taking forever," Peter quipped. He then grinned. "But my teachers like talking to you. They tell me it's like talking to a celebrity."

Tony rolled his eyes. "_Like? Like_ talking to a celebrity? Is being a superhero not worthy of celebrity status these days? Oh the state of society," Tony pretended to wail.

"Ha, well, better you than me. I'm only your son and people don't leave me alone," Peter sighed.

Tony clapped his back. "Come on now, you say that like it's a bad thing," he said lightly. But Tony knew what it was like living in the shadow of your father, and he hoped that Peter wouldn't feel too weighed down because he happened to be his son.

Peter grinned weakly, and then shook it off. "Nah, I'm good. Like I said, better you than me, old man," he laughed. Tony laughed with him.

"Come on, let's going. You're going to be late."

Peter already had his skateboard in his hands (he liked going to school that was as opposed to making a fuss by going in one of his many cars that Tony bought him) and headed toward the door.

_One day, kid, you're gonna realize you're a better man than I am, and all these years of feeling like you're not won't matter… _Tony thought as he followed his out of the door.


	3. Chapter 3

"See ya later, dad!" Peter called as he turned in the direction of his school while Tony ducked into one of his many expensive sports cars. Peter had always preferred going to school on his own and always in an inconspicuous manner, given his relation to one of the most well-known figures on the planet. And though Peter had, since becoming part of Tony's life permanently, been in the spotlight as Tony's protégée, he liked being able to things that set him apart from Tony, even if it was something as simple as riding a skate-board to school as opposed to driving a car.

Peter went to Midtown Science High School, a good school in almost every regard. He had attended private schools in the past, but in middle school had requested that he start going to "normal people schools;" most people at the private schools, he found, only hung out with him because he was Tony Stark's son as opposed to because they liked him, something that Peter had dealt with all his life and wanted to end right then and there.

Ever since then, Peter had been doing the same thing every school day, which was leaving Stark Tower with Tony and skate-boarding up to ten blocks in any direction to get to whatever school it was that he was going to at the time. Sometimes, Steve would accompany him, racing him (and letting him win) to the school. It happened less and less now that Peter was in high school, but every now and then when Steve wasn't on an assignment, he'd offer to race Peter to just the block before his school, for old times' sake.

When he was at private school, he entertained a slew of different interests, some of his favorite being fencing, and when he was younger, he liked to pretend he was a sword-wielding super hero; music lessons, where he learned how to play violin like Tony, though truth be told, he preferred to play harmonica, mostly because he liked playing pop charts on it loudly to annoy Tony and make Pepper laugh; and, surprisingly, chess.

After Peter transferred, however, he had to give up fencing and orchestra, two activities that the Midtown Science Middle and High schools didn't offer. Midtown did, however, offer a chess club, but Peter slowly got involved with photography, something that he found he enjoyed a lot and chose to stick with throughout high school. He worked with the yearbook people to get good pictures, and sometimes did pictures outside of year book purposes for people who wanted cheaply priced but expensive looking pictures for prom or other functions.

Peter usually had his camera on him all the time, and had it on him as he rode up onto school grounds. Midtown High was a fairly large brick facility, with multiple buildings, a beautiful green landscape, and paved walk-ways. Students flocked onto the grounds from cars parked in the student lot, and there were the occasional students like Peter who either walked or rode a bike or skateboard to school that were also milling onto the campus around him.

As he made his way through the parking lot and up the sidewalk, he hopped off his board and began to carry it; regardless of whom he was related to, he'd get in trouble if he rode it any further on school campus.

_Not like it's stopped me before_, he thought wryly, grinning.

He was about to hop back on his board and head toward building three, where his first class would be starting soon, but he noticed that there was a large crowd of students over by the student pavilion, a large cement platform with a bunch of tables and benches where students would sometimes each lunch or hang out, and that there were more students heading in that direction.

_Oh god that can't be good_, he thought to himself.

Peter contemplated whether or not he should head over there; large crowds on the campus this early in the morning usually meant that the resident asshole, Flash Thompson, was having some "fun" with one of the nerdy and or socially awkward kids. Flash and Peter didn't get along, mostly because Flash didn't like the assumed "competition" between him, the resident "popular" kid and Peter, the resident "rich boy, and partly because on his first day in school, Peter told Flash that he looked like he wore a taupe.

That day started a long, ugly history between Flash and Peter, which usually ended in Peter making excuses as to why he had a black eye or why he had blood stains on his clothes.

Peter heaved a sigh. _When in Rome, right?_

He fell in step behind another student who was making her way to the commotion, a short girl with brunette hair. He followed in line behind her all the way toward the pavilion, and as he got closer, the shouting and cheering got louder. The closer he got, the more he could see that the crowd was more a disorganized circle, one with an opening in the center, but he couldn't make out who was in the middle.

He could, however, hear who was in the middle. The voice was unmistakable, and quite honestly, unsurprising to Peter.

"I asked you a question, punk!" Flash's voice carried over the noise of the crowd. It was deep and menacing, and carried a tone that Peter was familiar with; rage.

"Man, I said I was sorry! What more do you want?" That particular voice was one Peter didn't recognize, though he thought it sounded odd, considering the fact that it was coming from sounded like was ground level.

Peter couldn't see what was going on, but wanted to get a better look to figure out just what in the hell was going on. Struggling and pushing past the tight-knit bodies in the crowd, he eventually made it to the front of the group in time to see Flash dart out a kick to a huddled mass of clothing on the ground.

It was only after the mass let out a pained, scared yelp that Peter was able to see that the clothing heap was actually a pitifully small boy, wearing what looked like was clothes that were three sizes too big for him.

"Get up you little prick and apologize!" Flash shouted down at him. Peter darted his eyes over towards the angry teen, trying to figure out what exactly the boy may have done to him to elicit such rage this early in the morning from Flash.

He started at Flash's head.

_Hair's intact… face the same level of douche as it usually is… shirt's fine, pants are fine… oh. There it is. _

Flash's feet were sporting what Peter could tell were a new pair of Jordan's, Flash's favorite brand of shoe. And currently, those brand new, shiny red and blue Jordan's were covered in what looked cafeteria breakfast: something that was supposed to be scrambled eggs and another something that looked like it may have been chipped corned beef at some point. Also: lots and lots of ketchup and probably the kid's entire carton of milk.

Peter could only figure that the kid probably accidentally bumped into Flash, knocking his food onto Flash's shoes and leaving the mess that was currently there. And Flash, being the Neanderthal that he was, consequently went, as Peter would describe, bat-shit crazy.

As Peter was eying Flash's shoes, putting all of this together, he saw as Flash's foot went back, preparing for another kick. He heard "Nah man, come on!" come in the form of a weak plea from the small boy on the ground and before he could stop himself, he shouted out.

"Hey Flash, come on now, that's not necessary."

Flash was obviously stunned that someone had called him out, and it showed as Flash snapped his head towards Peter. His irate expression slid almost instantly into one of amusement.

"Parker! Here to play hero?" he jeered. Peter let it slide.

"Flash just let it go. I'm sure the kid didn't mean to do whatever it was he did to you." Peter was rationalizing, which, depending on Flash's mood, may or may not work.

Peter was thinking it probably wasn't going to work.

"Do I look like I care if he meant it? He got his disgusting food on my new shoes! You know how much these cost?" Flash fired back at him.

Peter rolled his eyes. "You can afford another pair, but I don't know if you can afford this kid's medical bill if you keep laying into him like some brainless ape," Peter shot back. Though it was probably an exaggeration, Flash not being able to pay the kid's medical bills, Peter was legitimately worried about the damage Flash might be inflicting on his body; he really was a tiny thing, and Peter could see as he glanced down at him that he was in some serious pain.

Flash narrowed his eyes. "What'd you call me?"

"A. Brain. Less. Ape. Do I need to talk slower for your benefit?" Peter was pushing it now, but he knew whatever Flash would end up doing to him, he'd take it a hell of a lot better than the boy lying on the ground.

Before Peter had time to react any further than his little quip, Flash lunged forward toward him, connecting a hard fist into the side of Peter's face.

Peter stumbled backward, his skateboard falling out of his hands as he landed painfully on his rear.

"Who's an ape now, Parker?" Flash jeered down at Peter, who was rubbing the sore and slowly swelling spot on his check.

Peter let out an ironic chuckle. "Given the needless resort to violence to solve your problems, I'd say it was still you, Flashy Boy."

Flash's face curled into an ugly snarl, and he made for Peter again. Peter locked his eyes shut, preparing for an even worse blow to the face when another voice called out.

"Flash! What are you doing?" came a voice from behind Peter.

This was a girl's voice, and it was strong and firm and clearly not in the mood for any kind of bullshit, reminding Peter of the tones Pepper would have with him or Tony when they did something she didn't approve of.

When Flash's fist didn't make contact with his face, Peter chanced looking up behind him, squinting his eyes to see who had distracted Flash from raining down hell on his face.

He couldn't make out a full face, given that said face was staring (perhaps even glaring? Peter couldn't tell) in Flash's direction. Standing directly behind him was a petit girl with crème skin and shiny blonde hair. Peter thought she looked familiar, but couldn't quite place where he had seen her before.

"Nothing much," Flash said in response to the girl's previous question, bringing Peter's attention back to him. "Just taking care of some trash, ya'nno?" Peter could tell there was a difference in Flash's tone, and could only suspect that Flash thought that this girl was hot or something like that for him to have so easily snapped out of his ire and talking playfully.

"As fun as that sounds, we have an appointment, remember? Tutoring? Trig? Or did you forget?"

Peter was liking the no-nonsense coming from this girl.

Flash cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. "Uh. Yeah. I mean no. I didn't forget," he rushed. Peter took advantage of the fact that Flash was now distracted to pick himself off the ground. He noticed the other boy was already doing the same, though more gingerly than Peter was; he was clearly hurt far worse.

While Flash was occupied, Peter took the time to check in with the boy.

"Hey, you ok?"

The boy looked startled that someone was talking to him, and jumped when Peter addressed him.

"Uh, uh yeah, I'm ok," he said faintly. "He does this every week for one reason or another so I'm just kind of used to it."

The corners of Peter's lips turned down.

_God, Flash is such a dick. This kid doesn't even look older than a freshman…_

"What's your name?" He asked the boy. After all, he couldn't keep referring to him mentally as "the boy."

"Chris. Chris Kelly," he responded.

"Ok. You alright to get to class Chris, or you want me to take you to the nurse?"

Christ looked down, embarrassed.

"Can we go to the nurse?" he, asked, avoiding looking at Peter's eye's.

Peter nodded. "No problem."

While Peter had been checking in with Chris, the crowd had started to dissipate, and there were only a few stragglers left. Peter took his attention away from Chris for a moment to see what Flash was doing. From the looks of it, he was getting a good lecture from whoever the blonde haired girl was.

I'm pretty sure I know her, Peter thought to himself. He would have tried to figure out more who she was, but he did say that he was going to accompany Chris to the nurse, and the best time to slip away would be when Flash wasn't paying attention.

"Come on Chris, let's get you looked at."

"And are either of you boys going to let me know who did this so that I can report it to the principal?"

Peter and Chris sat in a brightly lit room with white walls and floors and a hospital bed with crisp, white sheets. A tall, well-built bronze-skinned man stood in front of them, wearing a set of scrubs in a nice shade of lavender. His thick forearms were crossed over each other, and he was giving both Peter, who was sitting on a stool, and Chris, who was on the bed, a look that said "you really need to report this. Seriously. No really. Do it."

Chris had already asked that Peter not tell the school nurse who had inflicted his damage (which was, luckily, just a bunch of really dark bruises; Peter had honestly thought Flash might have broken something, or worse) because he had had problems with Flash in the past, and when the school authorities got involved, it only got worse. His parents would be contacted, though, because he was a minor. Peter could tell that didn't thrill the young man at all.

"No, it's ok, Mr. Philip. It's no big deal," Peter spoke in response to the nurse's question. "It was just a misunderstanding."

Philip, the nurse, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Peter," he said deeply. "Just know that if you don't tell me, I can't report who did it, only that an incident occurred, and the school isn't obligated to take any kind of action, unfortunately. From what it looks like, the kid who did this did a nice number on the two of you."

That much Philip was right about; Chris' body had many ugly, angry-looking bruises on it, to the point where it really sickened Peter. Most of the damage done to Chris, though, was easily hidden by clothing; Peter, on the other hand, was sporting a large, purple ring around his eye that most likely wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

Peter shrugged. "We'll be ok." He looked over to Chris. "I'll make sure of that."

"Good. I'm going to go ahead and give your parents a call, Chris, so they can pick you up. Peter, you're free to go unless you have anything else you want to share. "

Peter shook his head. "No, I'm good." Philip looked disappointed that Peter still would not divulge any more information about how he and Chris got their injuries, but didn't press any further and turned, leaving the room.

It was quiet as the two boys waited for Philip to come back. Peter wanted to ask Chris more about Flash, and how many times before something like this has happened, but he didn't think that the young boy would want to talk about it; Chris had already told him that this had happened before, and a lot, and felt that was about as much he was going to get in one setting.

"Thank you, for doing all that," Chris' tiny voice came from the bed. Peter turned his head to look him.

"It's no big deal," he shrugged off.

Chris shook his head. "Yeah, it is. No one steps up to Flash. It was really brave, like, a super hero." Chris' face flushed, embarrassed. "Sorry for the choice of words."

"Nah, it's cool," Peter said with a smile. "Don't worry about it." Peter then moved on to ask something he had been wondering since meeting Chris. "How old are you, Chris?"

Chris bit his lower lip. "Well. I'm twelve. But I'll be thirteen in a month… I got moved a couple grades ahead. I'm a freshman right now, where I'd be in seventh if I followed a normal track."

Peter was impressed.

"That's really cool." He then moved into his next question. "So, I assume you know who I am, right? With the super hero comment, and all. You know who my dad is?"

Chris, who had been slowly starting to keep his eyes on Peter, lowered them again. "Y-yeah…"

Peter smiled. "Tell you what, give me your address, and I'll bring you something by later this week, ok? All you gotta do is promise to try and stay as far away from Flash as possible."

Chris darted his eyes back up to Peter's face, as if searching it for trickery. "O-ok." Chris reached over into his bag, pulled out a notebook and pen from inside, scribbled down his address, and ripped the page out and handed it over to Peter, who got up from his stool to get it.

Peter folded the page and stuck it in his pocket.

"Hope you get better, Chris. I'll see you soon," he said, offering a smile.

Chris gave him a little smile in return as Peter turned away. Then, so quietly that even Peter couldn't hear him, he said "thank you, Peter Parker. You're my very own super hero."

Peter ducked out of the nurse's office, took a sharp left, and headed quickly in the direction of the class he was supposed to be in. He had a nurse's note, but still.

His mind was reeling about Chris, a kid so young having to deal with shit from Flash on a weekly (possibly daily) basis. He wondered if Flash knew how old Chris was, but figured that even if Flash was privy to that information, Flash wouldn't give a damn about it.

Peter couldn't really do anything about Flash (something that annoyed and pissed him off to no end) but he could at least make Chris feel like he had a friend, something Peter felt he was probably lacking at this point.

Another thing that had Peter's mind reeling was the girl who had put Flash in his place. He knew he had seen her or at least knew of her, but couldn't quite place where he had seen her or who she was. All he knew was that he had to find her and tell her thanks; he probably wouldn't have been able to do much against Flash, and her distraction let him help Chris.

_It doesn't even matter, I probably won't see her again anyway,_ Peter thought to himself as he approached his class. He pushed Chris and the mystery girl to the back of his mind, preparing himself for the heavy duty berating he was likely to get from his teacher, and stepped through his classroom door.


End file.
